No Rain or Snow
by Nynaeve1723
Summary: Jordan has taken a job offer and moved. A case with Boston connections comes up however.
1. Opportunity Knocks

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive. criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun. OH! Wait – I DO own Caroline, Frank and the fictional "Lancaster," Indiana, and everyone you meet from "there." Please don't take them (unless of course, you want to publish them and make the New York publishing houses regret not doing it and then… call me!)

**Author's Note (Please Read this one):** **This is an experiment for me. Since a number of people mentioned enjoying my writing style I thought I'd do a little crossover between CJ and the characters from my series of novels. Feedback will be especially appreciated!**

**A/N2: POV will shift from third person mostly-omniscient for Jordan and first person for Caroline since my novels are written in first POV. Hopefully that won't confuse anyone**

**Part One: Opportunity Knocks**

Garret looked in on Jordan and Nigel in Trace. He opened the door. They both looked up, Nigel holding a fiber in front of his face. Macy looked at Jordan. "I need to talk to you when you're done here."

Jordan nodded. "Um- yeah, okay. We shouldn't be too much longer."

Garret closed the door.

Nigel glanced over at Jordan. "All right," he teased. "What'd you do this time?"

"I have no idea!"

"Come on, Jordan. You can tell me." He grinned at her.

"Really, Nige, I don't know." She stripped off her gloves. "There was that – that incident last week-"

"The one that found you and our not-so-beloved Detective Hoyt screaming at each other?"

She grimaced. "That would be the one." She tossed the gloves away and swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "But that was last week. _Early_ last week. And he _was_ wrong."

"A fact I doubt he appreciated."

"He doesn't appreciate much these days," she muttered. "You got the rest of this? If Garret's unhappy with something I've done, I'd like to find out what it is."

Nigel nodded. "Yeah, go."

Jordan walked down the hall showing a lot more confidence than she felt. She was fairly certain she knew why Garret wanted to see her and she didn't relish the interview. She tapped lightly at his door. Maybe he wouldn't hear her and she could head back down the hall, say she'd gone to see him and he hadn't been there and…

"Come in, Jordan."

"Damn," she breathed. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and nudged the door open with a toe. "What's up?"

He glanced up from the paperwork on his desk. "I think you know." She hung back in the doorway. "You'd better come in and close the door."

She did as told and took a seat across from him, perched precariously on the edge of the chair. "Okay, so I'm in."

For a moment, Macy said nothing. Finally he sighed. "Why, Jordan? Why?"

XXXXX

I strolled up from the mailbox, flipping through the variety of fliers, bills and other miscellany as a light spring breeze whistled through the new green leaves on the trees. This was the sort of day I didn't mind the half-mile round trip from the house to the mailbox and back. Our temps had topped out in the high seventies with a white-dappled blue sky overhead and sunlight that warmed without scorching. Besides the trees, our crocus, daffodil and tulip bulbs had started shooting up and the field behind the house was stirring to life. Another snowy Midwest winter was behind us and the humidity of summer was nothing more than last year's unpleasant memory. The house came into view and I remembered again I'd never trade Lancaster, Indiana anyway.

I'd moved here when I was twenty-two years old, a young wife and fresh-faced Latin teacher. My ex's family went back to Lancaster's founding and he was one of the town's blue-eyed boys (literally). When I couldn't provide him with the next Roman numeral in the family name (Peter Wilmot IV to be exact), he'd hedged his bets and gotten his girlfriend pregnant. Four years after my marriage began, it ended in a bitter flurry of accusations and publicity. I may have loathed the man by then, but his hometown had become mine, so I'd stayed. I'd become a little less fresh-faced, but I still taught Latin at Lancaster's exclusive Hampton Academy. I spent time with the best friend I'd ever had – Anne Marie Felton, whose family also went back to Lancaster's founding and who'd been friends with Pete her whole life until he did what he did. I dated, but avoided deep entanglements. Falling in love with a widowed police detective with two young daughters hadn't been anywhere in my plans. Then again neither had been dealing with the murder of one of our students during a Senior class school slumber party. The best laid plans….

I walked through the garage just as Frank opened the back door. "Mom called – she and Dad will be here a bit early."

I stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "That's fine. I just have to finish the salad." The first cookout of the season was something of an event around the Daniels household. I followed him into the house, handing him all the post except the most intriguing envelope. I slit the seal and pulled out an invitation. I opened it. "Frank!"

He looked up from his own perusal of the mail. "What?"

"Did you know about this?"

He glanced at the card in my hand. His brow crinkled. "Is it about Mel?"

"You did know! And you didn't tell me."

He gave me a confused look. "I didn't realize you and Mel were _that_ close."

"You know I think she's great." I pouted. "Besides she's an amazing M.E. How can anyone ever replace her?"

He sighed in what I knew to be mock consternation. "Only my wife would be worried about the quality of Hamilton County's new chief M.E." He put his hands on my shoulders. "It'll be fine. And Mel's excited."

I read the invitation again and again couldn't believe my eyes. "About moving to Alaska?"

"She says it's beautiful."

I sighed.

He kissed my forehead. "Besides, _Mellila, _things seem back to normal around here. Traffic accidents, drug busts and fights – no murders."

He never learns… You _never_ say stuff like that.

XXXXX

Jordan peered down at the body. She tilted her head. "Cause of death not really a question," she muttered.

"Nope. I may not be trained in forensics, but I'm pretty sure ramming a wrought iron garden stake through someone's heart is fatal."

Jordan looked over her shoulder. "Hi."

The man held out his hand. "Frank Daniels, Lancaster P.D." Jordan appraised him. Probably about six-four, medium build, with close cropped silvery-blond hair, a sturdy, square jaw and the most amazing eyes she'd ever seen – brown flecked with motes of gold and hints of green.

"Jordan Cavanaugh, new chief M.E." She gestured to the body. "You get this sort of thing a lot?"

Frank shook his head. "This is a pretty quiet place. Run of the mill crimes are traffic accidents and the like. Suspicious deaths we manage to avoid for the most part." He gave her a weary smile. "Of course, our last murder involved our police chief's wife. And she was stabbed in the throat with a shard of broken mirror."

"Nice," Jordan commented sarcastically. "So it's more quality than quantity around here?"

He nodded. "You could say that."

"So," she assessed him again and decided from the faint laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, he must have at least a decent sense of humor. "I'll get him back to the morgue, make the i.d., verify cause of death…."

"Oh, I can tell you who he is."

She drew her head back for a moment.

"Small enough town still. He's the local Jeep dealer's son. Steve Makeham."

"Okay. Well, that's gotta help." She pursed her lips. "I'll – uh – That is, the forensics team and I, we'll get what we can here and I'll get you a preliminary report as soon as possible." She glanced back at the body. "Any idea who might have mistaken him for some early tomato plants?"

He flicked up his eyebrows. Jordan decided he was really quite attractive. "I can think of about half a dozen people off the top of my head." He chuckled, somewhat grimly. "My wife could probably add at least another half dozen names to that list easily. Though she'd also probably then verify the alibis of at least four of them without batting an eyelash."

Jordan let out a mental sigh. Wife. Damn. Oh well. "Your wife's a detective, too?"

Frank Daniels laughed. "No, Dr. Cavanaugh, my wife is a high school Latin teacher with more curiosity than is often good for her and a sharp mind for figuring out puzzles."

Jordan just nodded.

END Part One


	2. Make New Friends

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made.

It's all for fun. OH! Wait – I DO own Caroline, Frank and the fictional "Lancaster," Indiana, and everyone you meet from "there." Please don't take them (unless of course, you want to publish them and make the New York publishing houses regret not doing it and then… call me!)

**Author's Note ****: This second part has been very slow in coming – my apologies. Blame it on other fics and the fact that the story seemed to generate very little interest overall. Oh and the fact that in the last three months my life went kind of haywire in a great many ways!**

**My thanks to Rin22 And CavanaughGirl who reviewed and asked for more.**

**Part Two: Make New Friends**

Jordan sighed as she stripped off her gloves and tossed them into the appropriate waste bin. The autopsy on Steve Makeham hadn't been that bad actually. She just found herself missing the "toys" she'd had at her disposal in Boston. A place like Lancaster obviously didn't need them. One part of her thought how utterly pleasant that was – a place where two or three murders in a year was a little higher than average didn't need every single piece of the latest technology. Another part worried how they solved crimes without such goodies. She smiled sadly as she recalled rigging up a light source for an old microscope during that blizzard, the one… well, that one.

"Interesting first day?"

Jordan jumped and whirled. Recognizing the detective, she blushed at her jitters. "You could say that."

He advanced into the room. "Anything you didn't expect?" His eyes twinkled. "Other than the lack of technology."

She arched an eyebrow. "Well, I – I-"

Frank Daniels chuckled at her. "Don't worry. Mel was always pushing for the new gadgets. I think she was finally getting through to our county councilors, too."

"Oh." Jordan nodded. "That – Yeah, that would be nice."

"So, Steve Makeham?"

"Oh, right. Pretty much what you'd expect. It does look like the spike used to – uh – spike him had been sharpened."

"Good. There would have been metal shavings."

Jordan shrugged. "Of course, the killer could have cleaned them up."

"Have you ever found a killer who cleaned up absolutely everything?" He forestalled her answer by raising his palms outward. "Don't answer that. Have you found _many_ killers who are that good?"

She shook her head. "No. Of course, if you find shavings, I'm sure your hypothetical suspect would claim they were from some other project."

"Probably. Could you match shavings?"

She thought about that. "That depends. The equipment here may not be absolutely state-of-the-art, but someone could make a match. I'm an M.E. though."

"Well, we'll have to introduce you to our two Forensics officers."

Jordan nodded, still grappling with how small a place this really must be. "Oh, I did find a fairly high BAC."

"Figures. Steve rarely met a bottle he didn't like."

"And several blond hairs – female, just a guess due to the length."

Frank shrugged. "Steve also rarely met a bottle blonde he didn't like." He paused. "His wife's a brunette. Anything else?"

"I'm waiting for the tox results. Found a few contusions and cuts, some old, some probably from the night he died. No defensive wounds though and it didn't look like he'd been hit in the head." Jordan sighed again. "Oh, I'd put TOD around three to four a.m."

Daniels smiled at her. "Thanks, Dr. Cavanaugh. I appreciate your help."

"Uh – yeah. Sure." _I wonder how long that will last_.

"I'd better get going. My youngest thinks she something a prodigy and if her older sister has to hear the younger one recite the times tables one more time… well, we're likely to have some unpleasantness."

Jordan smiled and waved at him to take off.

Daniels turned at the door. "Doctor?"

"Jordan, please."

He grinned. "Jordan, why don't you come to dinner?"

"Tonight? Now?"

"Sure. It's your first day and I'm sure you're tired."

"Won't your wife mind?" Jordan gaped.

Frank shrugged. "Doubt it. Caroline has mistaken one husband and two small girls for an army battalion on the march. And like I said earlier, you two'd probably get along great."

She let a tired grin spread her lips. "What about the times tables?"

"You still remember twelve times twelve?"

Jordan nodded.

"Great."

XXXXX

"Mom! Dad's on the phone!" Anna bellowed at me from the landing at the top of the stairs.

I looked up from the Latin papers I was grading and sighed. A twinge of irritation assailed me as I thought of previous years slogging through the Senior projects – I'd lock myself up for a weekend and persevere until they were done. This year, my first in years with a husband and my only with children, the going was slow at best. Then I felt guilty; I'd hardly trade Frank or his daughters – mine now too – for long, empty weekends of 4th Year prose on such varied topics as "Roman sewer systems: Engineering Marvels of the Ancient World" to "Desperate Roman Housewives: Favored Poisons of Rome's Deadliest Matrons." I pushed back my chair and crossed to the phone in the kitchen. "Got it," I called up to Anna. "Hey," I answered.

"Hey, yourself. I'm about to head out."

I nodded, a grin spreading across my face. "And?"

"And what?"

"You don't usually call to tell me you're on your way home."

He chuckled. "Maybe I should. Actually I wanted to know if you'd mind if I brought someone home for dinner."

I did a quick mental calculation, knowing it wasn't necessary. I'm a firm believer in leftovers – or surprise dinner guests. "Sure. Can I ask who? Or is it a surprise?"

"The new M.E."

A twinkle lit up my eyes. "Anything to do with Steve Makeham?"

He groaned. "You can't possibly be interested in that."

"I can't?"

"Why would you be? It didn't happen at Hampton, right before our wedding, practically at our house or at my boss' house."

"So?" _As if those little personal connections mattered._

He sighed in defeat. "All right, you can possibly be interested. But to answer your question – no, not really. It's her first day on the job and I thought it might be nice to welcome her to town."

I arched a brow. "You didn't think a nice stake through the heart was the right touch?"

"Not entirely. I'll see you in a bit."

I hung up and went to clean up my papers.

XXXXX

Jordan followed the detective down a long, gravel drive until a big, two-story revamped farmhouse appeared. She whistled softly to herself. From the trees, just putting on their greenery, to the pristine white paint on the siding, the place was a stereotype. She had to wonder what the family the house contained would be like. She suddenly wondered if her jeans, sprung boots and casual blouse-over-tank-top ensemble would be up to snuff.

Frank Daniels indicated she could park wherever she wanted to. He walked over and opened her door for her, an action that normally would have set her teeth on edge, but in this setting seemed – well, inescapable. He chatted with her, asked how she liked Lancaster so far, had she lived in Boston long – small talk, but he actually seemed interested in her answers.

He led her through the garage, where the first thing Jordan noticed was a small, blue convertible. Daniels smiled as he followed her glance. "My wife's pride and joy."

"I can imagine."

He opened the door into a family room that was comfortable and gave way to a nook-and-kitchen combination. Jordan caught a flash of white and jumped back. The detective chuckled. "My wife's other pride and joy. Her cat. He's not fond of change."

"Change?"

"It's only been a year since we got married."

"A year?"

Frank smiled and his hazel eyes flashed with green. "He's _really_ not fond of change."

They heard a door bang and voices. "Oh, hi! Sorry. We were out getting some fresh herbs."

Jordan surmised this was Mrs. Daniels. Tiny, maybe five-three, to her husband's six-four, she had dark blue eyes and pale skin. Jordan breathed an inward sigh of relief to see the woman wore an outfit similar to her own. She smiled and, after putting down the fresh cut basil and rinsing her hands, reached out to shake Jordan's hand.

"Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh, this is my wife, Caroline. _Mellilla_, this is Jordan. And these…," he tugged the two children trailing Caroline front and center. "The taller one here is Anna; the towhead is Delia."

"It's short for Cordelia," the little one informed the M.E.

"Very pretty," Jordan replied smiling.

"Do you like bugs and stuff?" Anna asked.

Jordan shrugged. "I guess."

The older one's eyes lit up. "Wanna see what we found?"

"Girls, Dr. Cavanaugh is our guest," Caroline reminded them. "Can we hold off on disgusting her, at least until after dinner?"

Their faces fell until their father offered to go check out whatever entomological discovery they had made, leaving the M.E. and his wife to size up each other. Jordan gazed around the kitchen and inhaled the aromas of home cooking. "Cacciatore?" Her voice caressed the vowels the way they were meant to be.

Caroline smiled at her. "Si, pollo alla cacciatore."

"Conoscete l'italiano?" Jordan's eyes lit up.

"Soltanto un piccolo. Conosco il Latino." Daniels' wife smiled and shrugged. "They're similar, of course."

Jordan offered to help with dinner, and, in an easy spirit of cooperation, both women put the finishing touches on the food. The M.E found herself relaxing, secretly glad Caroline Daniels was nothing like the perfect little wife she'd envisioned. She did share her cacciatore recipe, but their conversation also ranged over topics from her classes, to the lowdown on the people Jordan would be working for and with. Frank had still not returned with his daughters – Jordan quickly realized this was a second marriage for both and the children were both his – when Caroline posed a question which caught Jordan by surprise.

"So, what have you found out about Steve Makeham so far?"

END Part Two


End file.
